Thoughts, hints, opinions, ideas, etc., on being transgendered
Jane's Journey
By Jane Fleming
There are times when I find myself able
to think consecutively. This is not one of them. So what follows
will be some random thoughts and observations.
There are many factors involved when one decides
to transition, not the least of which is the decision itself. In
my late teens and early twenties I came to the decision that it would not
be practical for me to try to live as a woman. I was too tall, too
wide, too hairy, too deep-voiced, too masculine looking, etc. etc.
And a few forays across the line in subsequent years, when I was consistently
read, reinforced that decision. When I considered going out again
thereafter, my late wife would say, "We tried that and it didn’t work."
It was many years later that I found that
it could in fact work. Electrolysis and hormones helped. Without
the work I’ve done on the voice I never would have had the nerve to try
to function in society. And I think that aging overall brings with
it some benefit. Younger women are scrutinized as sex fodder by men
and as competition by women; at age fifty, people don’t seem to pay me
a whole lot of attention. But perhaps most important was my inner
perspective. A friend who has known about my gender quandary for
decades said succinctly, "Back then you were out playing Jane. Now
you’re out being Jane."
We’ve heard so much advice as to how important
our attitude is when we’re interacting with the world. Experience
bears witness to that. It seems to be a fact that if I question who
I am, others will as well
In prior years, if I went into a store as a man
I’d be focused on what I was there to buy - not on whether I was being
‘read’ or on what I might be wearing. I was un self-conscious, in
other words. Eventually that un self-consciousness began to happen
as a woman for periods of time. It was eye-opening to me in my period of
part-time living to find patches of time - a few hours, perhaps - when
I would be totally unaware of anything incongruous about myself and what
I was doing. Then on occasion things would be going swimmingly until
I would ‘wake up’ to my situation - "My God, am I really doing this?".
At that point it was helpful to remind myself consciously: "This is just
who you are now. You’re not trying to fool anyone."
At that time I developed my own sense and
definition of ‘passing’. This is basically an attitude of: "I would
prefer that people assume I’m a genetic woman, but I can never know what
anybody really thinks about me unless he says something. As long
as I can lead my life how and as who I want to without conflict, I consider
that I’m passing adequately." I realized that some people were bound
to have doubts. And the most effective counter to those doubts would
be my own certainty. Much as I dislike expressing it this way, in
some ways the juxtaposition of doubt and certainty is almost akin to a
psychic game of ‘chicken’ - except that instead of cars heading at each
other, it may be attitudes. And my certainty that "this is who I
am" will prevail over any others’ doubts.
That psychic shield faltered most dramatically one
night about half past midnight in a redneck bar in Elkridge, Maryland.
I knew from the pickup trucks parked outside that I was pushing the envelope,
but I’d had a long cross-country flight, the town was rolled up tight,
and I wanted a bedtime beer. A drunk slurring his words wandered
over to my table and asked me several times whether I was male or female.
I kept replying ‘female’ to his persistent questioning, finally asked what
he was, and he went muttering back to his table. (Geez - I wasn’t
even dressed like a hooker !) I had a funeral to go to that morning,
and the evening had lost its charm, so it seemed time for a dignified exit.
Obviously, I wouldn’t recommend putting oneself in such a situation.
But even though it was not at all elegantly played out, I felt that my
inner certainty kept the situation from getting ugly.
The phrase "Real Life Test" grates on me in
a way. Yet I constructed my own - not to satisfy a therapist, but
to test for myself whether I could satisfactorily live as a woman.
During a period of several months I went into male mode for a few days
a month to let the face grow out enough for electrolysis. But I saved
all other interactions with the world for the days when I could do them
en femme. Needless to say, being unemployed at the time made it much
easier to do this.
This test period settled my doubts before I committed
to living full time. It really was an experiment, as I did not know what
to expect. I likely would not have had the courage to proceed if
I had discovered that the quality of my life would have been unbearable
- if I had been greeted by peasants bearing torches and pitchforks from
every direction. But that turned out not to be the case.
I suppose that from a therapist’s viewpoint the move to living full
time would be considered when I entered RLT. But to me it was just
RL - Real Life. It was not a decision or a change enacted in order
to qualify for surgery, but just to be living as the person I was comfortable
being.
Transition is really a process, not
a goal. The poet e.e. cummings wrote a verse that began: "dying
is fine) but death…." That sentiment was also phrased by Bob Dylan
as "he not busy being born is busy dying."
A piece of music is played outside of time.
If the goal were to get to the last note of a symphony, the greatest conductor
would be the one whose orchestra played the fastest. Meaning is in
the moment, in the movement - not focused on a goal down the road.
With the way the Standards of Care are structured,
the movement toward surgery is of necessity a progression involving certain
steps and goals. But I think it is a mistake to fixate on that one
event. Ultimately, the only thing cured by SRS is the absence of
a vagina. And after that is dealt with, we still have all the challenges
of the rest of mankind: old age, sickness, death, loneliness, lack
of meaning, emptiness, etc.
So it disturbed me the other day to hear a
pre-op friend say how she’s looking forward to getting through SRS "so
I can get on with my life." Because so much of the life that is to
be got on with then is also now.
©1998 by Jane Fleming. All rights reserved.
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